


in all chaos, there is calculation

by Isagawa



Series: Glory And Gore [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Punk Hazard Arc, Soulmarks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagawa/pseuds/Isagawa
Summary: "The castle is calm; the corridors are wide; his room is cold. He draws the curtains and looks at the endless snow. (His room is cold, he can pretend that’s the reason of him undressing so fast every night. Some nights he lies awake with his right palm pressed flat against the patch of colour on his shoulder, almost warm, something unintelligible curled down under his ribcage.)"In which Law waits for a sign, or wants to stop waiting for one.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Series: Glory And Gore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748254
Comments: 7
Kudos: 143





	in all chaos, there is calculation

**Author's Note:**

> *comes late to the zoom class with a starbucks in hand* so i guess this is a series now

It had stopped hurting, but it hadn’t stopped being _there_. 

Law wondered what would happen if Strawhat died. He wasn’t well acquainted with this whole concept — soulmarks, love, destiny aiming for something _good_ for once. He had heard things about them; that it was so rare, that it didn’t exist even, that it was bad luck, that it was the best of lucks. All these things he had already heard about Devil Fruits. Words, drawings, symbols, similar moles splayed on different bodies; soulmarks seemed to come in any form or shape. Maybe they were supposed to be rare, but since his crew had entered the Grand Line, he had already crossed paths with a few mark-bearers. 

Not that he had cared. Law wasn’t the type to care. He had seen so much shit, a few matching tattoos weren’t about to move him. 

But after Marineford, he had wondered what would happen if Strawhat died. He had healed him as best as he could, and the Heart pirates had sailed away from Amazon Lily only when Strawhat had regained consciousness. Yet possibilities of a relapse weren’t to be underestimated. And the bruise-like mark on Law’s shoulder kept hurting. 

It kept hurting for a while.

And then months had passed, the first year had passed, and Strawhat Luffy was still dead to the world, and the mark was still there. And Law had thought— maybe he hadn’t, but maybe he had died on this island. Maybe, even with Luffy dead, the mark would always stay.

He had hoped not. It reminded him too much of sick men in a sick city, of white spots on soon-dead skin. 

But it was still there. 

🔅

It’s a sick lab and there are sick men there, but corpses don’t rot in broad daylight like they did in Flevance, so Punk Hazard is as good a hideout as anything else. 

Coming here, he had wanted to find dirt on Doflamingo— he had _ached_ for it. Coldly, burningly. And now that it’s so close, years of hatred colliding inside of him, he has nothing to do but wait. Breathe. Grit his teeth and pretend he doesn’t want to cut Caesar to slices without a Room to put him back together, and that Monet’s gaze makes him uneasy. He hates their guts, but the castle is calm and they leave him alone. He has, objectively, seen worse.

The castle is calm; the corridors are wide; his room is cold. He draws the curtains and looks at the endless snow. Some nights the wind picks up and he has an excuse for his insomnia, and other times the air has a sound, velvety quality and Law thinks good things happen even in disgusting places. (His room is cold, he can pretend that’s the reason of him undressing so fast every night. Some nights he lies awake with his right palm pressed flat against the patch of colour on his shoulder, almost warm, something unintelligible curled down under his ribcage.) (Some nights the thing beneath his skin is anger and he wants to scream.)

Destiny is chaos —otherwise he wouldn’t have a fateful bruise covering the round of his left shoulder, part of his collarbone, the tip of his scapula, he knows the delimitations by heart by now— but his mind is a neat, tidy place that bears no intrusion. Law keeps the chaos at bay, and plots. 

He has thought of a plan. His mind is an operating table and he has dissected every possibility of revenge, seen every possible move through and through. If there was one thing he was good at, it was that; plans. Calculations. A few things were needed, a few numbers in his addition. One remote island that just so happens to harbour one of Joker’s men. 440 million berries on his bounty poster so he could instill fear. A hundred hearts so the Navy would leave him be — a small tribute for peace, really. 

He doesn’t feel sorry for the pirates whose hearts he stole. They had it coming. He would send a hundred more hearts, if needed, because everyone had it coming in this great big world. (He thinks about Strawhat Luffy, his chest burned and ripped open, eyes hollow and mind teetering on the edge of death, bones white and red and broken, the heart underneath. And still his lungs inhaling, exhaling, inhaling. How a body doesn’t let go of its own light. 

Then he realises that he’s gritting his teeth too hard, and he stops thinking.)

🔅

 _  
Some nights he had..._

🔅

  
  


There are Marines at the front door and Smoker’s watching him with a look that says _If I was allowed to, I’d strangle you,_ and some days really are a pain in the ass, aren’t they.

Law sighs because if he doesn’t put up a front, he’ll remember how much Smoker’s cigar stinks and he has no time for this. That’s a nice scar he got. It wasn’t there the last time they crossed paths. The woman —what’s her name again?— is looking funny with her little nose so red. How and why did they come here in the first place, he can’t tell. 

Smoker is still looking at him through heavy fog, and the men behind him are yelling that Law is evil and they should run far away. Law smirks. They got that right, at least.

“What are you doing here, Trafalgar? This island is off-limit.” Still a surprise, how smooth the snow makes everyone’s voice sound, even Smoker’s. Velvety quality. It only happens in places the real world has left behind. “That includes government men.”

Law thinks about the hundred hearts he sent and smiles wider— it had been a cheap price to pay. “Then it applies to you too, White Chase. What business do _you_ have here?”

Smoker pulls out a black, sputtering transponder snail. 

_“--LLO? LUFFY SPEAKING! FUTURE PIRATE KING!!”_

Law’s smile drops.

 _Not so fast_ , another voice says, _don’t tell them everyth-kzz_ and that must be another member of the Strawhat crew, but Law is only half-listening by now. The wind has picked up again. He feels his hands grow cold. 

So he hasn’t died, after all.

He raises his gaze and levels his eyes on Smoker’s from under his cap. The woman says something that doesn’t register. Then Smoker is saying “Show me inside the lab”, which is some impressive wishful thinking.

“It’s my vacation home now. And no.”

The pieces slot together fast enough, and pushing feelings aside is, as always, easy. ( _“Luffy speaking.”_ )

“You abandoned the island,” Law says, smooth and cold and deadly as the snow. “I’m the only one around. If Straw Hat makes his way here, I’ll hunt him down for you.”

He doesn’t know yet if that’s a lie. He kind of wants to see how Straw Hat’s scar has healed, and he kind of wants to kill Straw Hat himself, just to see if the fucking bruise would go away. He wants to extinguish that something flickering in his stomach that reminds him of the Sabaody and feels like anticipation. 

“Is that all you wanted? Now _leave_ —”

Children voices screaming interrupt him, and he just has the time to look behind his shoulder and wonder what the _hell_ is happening when an army of kids, a red-head, a blond man and an animal at least as big as Bepo burst out the building,

and some days really are a cosmic joke, aren’t they. 

🔅

_Some nights he had prayed, and then felt silly, because..._

🔅

Smoker had said “During the paramount war, you helped him escaped” when showing him the transponder snail that spoke with Straw Hat's voice, and Law had held still to refrain from touching his shoulder and snarking _Gee, thanks, I had forgotten about it_. 

He had thought that, on this particular point, the mark put him one step ahead of everyone — how were you supposed to forget someone your own body reminded you of on a daily basis? But upon seeing what’s most likely Straw Hat’s crew stumble outside the building, he has to admit they make a pretty good job at being unforgettable in the first place.

The blond man —Law remembers him from the Sabaody— takes a quick look at the crowd of Marines and Warlord alike gathered outside, a look of disbelief painted on his face, and immediately turns around, shouting “Let’s find a different exit! Everyone inside!” A second later, the doorstep is empty again.

“So much for being alone”, says Smoker, and Law closes his mouth, shakes himself off. How long has he been staring? 

“I’m just as shocked as you...”

“We gotta capture the Straw Hats!” yells the woman —it’s Tashigi, her name’s Tashigi, he remembers now, he keeps track of every person in the New World that could prove to be his enemy, she got promoted recently, she fights with a sword and they share a birthday— and the words register a second before Law looks up. 

Smoker must see something in his eyes, because he shouts “Stay where you are!” at the same time Law raises his hand. 

_Get it together, Law._

_You won’t go far if the first pebble on the road gets you in such a state._

“Room”, Law says, and Law thinks that this is exactly the kind of complication he didn’t need. The room expands, soft blue against stark white. He cannot think of a single reason why he would help the Strawhats escape. 

The navy boat lifts into the air in a swift, graceful motion. 

Soldiers scream, Smoker grabs his seastone pole, and Law thinks, thinks, thinks. The Marines in front of him, the other crew behind, still in his Room. He can’t handle two fights at once ; stalling might be the only way out for now. He can’t think of a solution right this instant. His thoughts aren’t clear. 

His mind is still focused on the sound of Straw Hat's voice through the transponder.

_Get it together._

_Make them more confused than you are._

“Shambles” he spits, switching the Strawhats crew’s hearts, hoping it’ll be enough to slow these monsters down. Fine. On with the government’s clowns now. 

Smoker is on him before he has time to think.

Law dodges smoothly, on instinct, rights himself, lifts Kikoku. Smoker shouts to his soldiers again “Stay out of his blade range!” and with his eyes intent on Smoker’s face, just when their weapons clash, Law can see the exact moment it sinks in—that Law holds a significant advantage over him. 

Law ain’t protecting anyone. 

“You’re dead weight here! Get _out_ of the circle!” 

Oh, but that won’t do. Law is just starting to have fun. 

He turns around to the sound of shots fired and shambles them with snowflakes. Sweet snowflakes, falling gently, gently falling. A blessing. Cries echo his actions, and Law smiles.

He’s in control again. He can think straight. 

A blade nears his head. He slices the woman in half, then her sword for good measure. She stumbles to the ground and stays there, but her fists are clenched, her jaw set, and her gaze is intense. Law doesn’t take pity. He has seen this kind of gaze before, and it’s always on the faces of the defeated. 

The tip of a pole brushes by and Law jerks. Smoker’s on him again, too fast to dodge, so he meets him point blank, blade against seastone. He’s close enough to see the Marine become pale, and when he understands he’s in fact turning the exact colour of his fog, it’s too late, and Law stumbles, pushing against an enemy that’s just not there. 

Half a second later, Law chokes, his body tipped the other way, a newly tangible hand wrapped tight under his jaw. Smoker knocks him over, Law’s back crashing against the ground, and he’d let out a pained groan if only he wasn’t being strangled. White dots flood the black curtain of his eyelids. 

Law’s eyes slam open. Smoker’s seastone shatters a wood plank that, one second earlier, was still Law’s head. 

He wheezes; Smoker attacks again. The Marine is the only fighter that’s worth something here, but dammit if he isn’t a pain in the ass. 

Law is panting. He dodges again, uses a rock to protect himself, _thinks_. Although virtually invincible when faced with normal opponents, Law is fully aware that Smoker’s wearing him out, pushing him hard. He cannot have the fight drag on any longer. 

_Make them more confused than you are._

He raises one hand, splayed fingers spelling death. The next second, he swaps Smoker and Tashigi, and Smoker goes down. 

Good. He still has that other problem to solve.

“See? It _is_ a battleship!” calls a childish, triumphant voice. Law turns, silences the heavy thing under his ribcage, and stares. 

Well, speak of the devil fruit user.

  
  


🔅

  
  


_I’ll help him escape!,_ he had said. That had been just before the Polar Tang dived into water. _Leave him to me! I’m a doctor!_

It had been a long time since he had last said that; the only ones who knew already, his crewmates, were also the only ones worth knowing.

The Polar Tang’s engines ran lowly, a humming in the restless summer air. Jinbe, valiant knight of the sea, nearly too large for his submarine, gave instructions to reach Amazon Lily. Straw Hat’s destroyed body sat heavy in Shachi’s arms. And the bruise sat, painful and terrible, finally understood, on Law’s shoulder. Law, extending a room in the sickbay, was convincing himself he didn’t care. 

How weird claiming it aloud like that.

 _I’m a doctor._ It seemed he had nearly forgotten that.  
  


🔅

His mark is hurting. 

It’s actually really fucking painful for the first time in two years, and Law doesn't understand. He shuffles around, hiding his wince behind a carefully neutral face. Straw Hat has come closer, and he’s thanking him for what he did at MarineFord. 

He looks so _alive_.

When he can’t stay still and keep a straight face anymore, Law brings a hand to his left shoulder and pushes down. It doesn’t ache, exactly, but it feels like it’s pressing down on all of his nerves endings, propagating the burn to his whole body. It doesn’t ache, but it—

It itches. 

Law scratches on his heavy coat. It itches, not like a healing scar does, but like the skin after a bug bite itches when you don’t scrape it off. The sensation drags down on his shoulder blade, intense, and Law wants to rub his back against a tree, hard enough to make it bleed. 

It itches the way a bug bite would itch, if it couldn’t heal and you hadn’t scratched it in two whole years. 

“Thank you for all the help you gave me! I owe you my life!”

Straw Hat is beaming, the biggest smile on his face, yellow earmuffs on each side of it. His face is so round. Law remembers that back in his sickbay, covered in blood, he had thought it painfully young. 

“I was acting on a whim. You don’t need to feel any gratitude for what I did. You and I are both pirates, don’t forget that.” Law’s answer is automatic. He is searching for something on Straw Hat’s face, but he can’t quite decipher what.

Then the Marines attack again, and blah, blah, blah, and Roronoa Zoro —Law recognises him: another supernova— shouts “Luffy, we gotta get outta here!”. Straw Hat starts running but turns around mid-step and asks: “Hey, I wanna ask you something!”

“Go around the back of the lab,” Law points. “Your other crewmates are there.”

Straw Hat beams and runs away, not once doubting him. Law can tell he is grateful again and groans, a low, furious sound at the back of his throat. Angry now, without warning. He turns around to face the Navy and thinks: _just get out of my sight_. 

He has just realized what he was searching for on Straw Hat’s face: a wince, a sign he was itching too. 

Well. At least he was alive.  
  


🔅

_Some nights—_

_Some nights he would pray for Strawhat Luffy not to be dead, because if he was, what had been the point of any of this?_

🔅

“Everything good?” Monet asks when he comes back in the castle, and he is boiling, fists clenching and unclenching sporadically, and he can’t begin to comprehend why. 

He had been trying to forget it. 

It’s just— unfair, to realize it still exists, this useless, stupid bruise, when all along the true important things have slipped through his fingers. (His sister on a bed with her eyes closed.) (His yells and pleas non-existent in the cold air and his little fists banging against wood and the ringing of a shot.) It’s sickening, this mark that means _bond_ and _love_ and _meant to be_ , as if something good could come of it, as if fate hadn’t abandoned him from the moment he had seen Mom falter on her feet, _as if Law’s life hadn’t been fucked from the fucking start._

So fate has a plan for him, after all— well fate could go fuck itself. 

“Law?”

He looks up and his gaze finds Monet, glasses on her forehead, aiming a pointed look at him. He doesn’t trust her a bit. His hands lay down his sides, fists unclenched and relaxed. He finds an odd comfort in the way his pokerface slides on, easy. “There were Marines at the door, I took care of them.”

And yet Straw Hat had been alive and smiling and bright, and Law hadn’t found it in himself to regret saving him.

Monet tuts. “Oh well. Better go and check if they haven’t broken anything.”

It’s just colour, and it could be random for all he knows, the person and location, signifying nothing — and the human race had thought it a sign, because everyone loves fairy tales. Trivial and insignificant, unfair, sickening. 

And most of all infuriating, to think there’s a small part in him that can’t help but _care._

“I’ll go”, Law says, surprising even himself. “I wanted to go for a walk anyway.” 

“Yes, it’s sunny outside,” she hums, before returning to her reports. 

_As if I cared_ , he thinks, walking away. Inside, corridor, door creaking, outside; the sky, immense and white, blinds him for a second. The sun has melted the snow, and now it’s solidifying again, hazardous, slippery.

So what if it means something? he asks himself, striding off, on thin ice. 

What if the mark really means what he thinks— soulmates, two halves of a same part? Mentally, he goes through his plan again, its steps and careful ideas. It had been stupid to think everything would go as planned, because practically nothing ever does. But maybe, if he can’t keep this chaos out, he has to welcome it in, calculate it in — Straw Hat Luffy is chaotic enough. 

_Right. Let’s embrace it, for once_. _Let’s see what you can do._

He squashes down an odd smile threatening to break out. This solution is not revenge, but it’s close enough. 

He doesn’t want to give fate a chance. He wants to put it to the test.

🔅 

Fifteen minutes later, he cuts in half the two yeti brothers, and the navigator (in that weird cyborg body) is saved. Straw Hat is looking at him. 

Akin to anticipation, something flickers down Law’s stomach. 

Law says it, the words finally out in the open after two years: _I have a plan to take down one of the four emperors._ There is a shining in the other’s eyes he didn’t quite expect: seriousness, gravity.

Luffy crosses his arms and just asks: “Which one?”

Law doesn’t hide his grin, then.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Took two months to write this mf, because quarantine and homeworking have done far more harm to my general tired-with-bad-mental-health state than I usually thought. I kinda like how this turned out though!  
> All the canon dialogues are from VizManga's translations btw  
> Regarding the whole series thing: please bear with me when I say I know exactly where I wanna go with this, and have no clue if I'll be able to. (Also feel free to give kudos or subscribe or anything really, i am but a humble cyborg in need of her cola tank)


End file.
